Seattle
by irinaray
Summary: Set during 'Dream Logic.' What could have happened while Peter and Olivia were on the trip together, alone. Rated M for future chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Seattle.

Pt 1; You're Gonna Be Fine

The two knocks on the hotel door wouldn't have been enough to wake Olivia if she had been asleep. Luckily for the one doing the knocking, after the last few days she had lived through, Olivia couldn't foresee a time too soon when she'd peacefully be able to drift off to sleep.

In her Northwestern shirt and a pair of sweats, Olivia Dunham climbed from the hard, hotel mattress and padded her way, barefoot, to the door, cautiously checking the peephole before slipping the locks sideways. She opened the door, her long, blonde hair framing her face as she gave her somewhat unexpected visitor a smile.

"I don't know about you, but I can't sleep."

Peter Bishop stood in front of her in the same long-sleeved MIT shirt and pajama bottoms that he had donned the night before. This time, the addition of a bottle of whiskey was in his left hand.

"Are you up for some company? A drink?" He paused, his lips pursing together in a shrug that drew a smile out of Special Agent Olivia Dunham. "Come on, anything to make me forget that someone just died from extracting dreams from patients."

Olivia smiled. Peter's carefree, I'm-just-worried-about-the-day attitude fooled her very little. He may have been haunted by their latest closed case, but it was more likely that after the death and body snatching of Charlie Francis, he was checking up on her.

"Come on in."

With the door propped open, Olivia watched as Peter slipped past her and into the room, stopping briefly at the mini bar to extract a pair of plastic cups before he walked over to the chair on the opposite side of the couch. As he pulled apart the cups and began to pour a drink for himself and, of course, one for her, Olivia smiled. A year ago, Peter Bishop in her room after midnight, checking up on her, would have never happened. Hell, he would have disconnected his phone to stay away from her. Looking after Walter had opened up a side of him that his acquaintances in Iraq would say didn't exist – he cared for others more than himself. And not only that, but he was good at caring for others.

"Where did you even get that?" Olivia asked, motioning to the bottle of whiskey as she made her way to the couch, sitting down directly in front of Peter and the pseudo-bar that he had set up on the table between their seats. "Or do you have a late-night liquor connection in Seattle, too?"

There it was. The grin and chuckle that had first made Olivia think that maybe, some part of her was very, very attracted to Peter. So carefree, so charming. In that one smile his wit and wisdom shone through his face, lighting up his eyes as it drew up the corners of his mouth. He didn't try, but he was charming. The same part of her that was attracted to him, drawn to him, even, was the small piece of her that wondered periodically if he was seeing anyone.

"No connection, sorry. Just good old, bribing the hotel bartender to sell me an entire bottle. I probably vastly overpaid for this little nightcap."

"You could have just asked me to the bar."

Peter glanced up as he passed her a cup, letting the silence fall over them as he watched her. He used the quiet, dimly lit room to say what he could not voice. No. He could not have asked her to the bar. In public, Olivia became Olivia Dunham. She'd never talk to him personally, one on one, not like she had earlier when she told him the story of meeting Charlie. When he had seen the hurt, the pain and the loss covering her face in something that made not just his heart but his entire soul sink in sadness for her.

In public, he could never have her. He could never have her alone. That soft, gentler side of Agent Dunham that eluded Peter only came out when they were face-to-face in a quiet room.

In public, he'd never have a chance.

They drank. Their hands raising the cheap, hotel cups to their lips in unison and even lowering them at the same moment. Peter smiled, hoping Olivia had noticed the synchronized sip, but soon realized that unlike Peter's eyes, which were perfectly trained on Olivia, Olivia's eyes were resting on the photograph still on the table.

Charlie's death and bodysnatching had been a shock to everyone, but hardest on Olivia. And why not? Her best friend at the bureau, her confidant and her protector. Peter had known it would be difficult for Olivia, but after her emotional display earlier, he suddenly realized it was going to be a lot harder for her than he could have imagined. Olivia Dunham wasn't one to show pain and Peter guessed that even hopped up on Walter's home-made psychedelics, he couldn't have imagined Olivia's pain.

"You know," Peter lifted himself up, his cup finding a resting spot on the table as he moved from the chair, to the couch, his body settling down against hers close. "You _are_ going to be fine."

Her head bounced once, slowly, in a firm nod, but Peter could read that she didn't know whether or not to believe those words. Everything about her body language gave her away – her fingers nervously grasping the small cup too tightly in her lap, her tense shoulders, her lips, God, those kissable, beautiful lips, pressed together, sealing off any emotional words from leaving her mouth. Heaven forbid she bare her soul twice in one trip, Peter thought.

Peter's hand came up from his knee, pushing Olivia's hair behind her ear, revealing her profile to him as she sat, statue-like on the couch beside him. It was as if a fringe event had turned her to stone, right that moment.

"He wasn't the only one to care about you, Livia."

Silence engulfed the room again as Peter's words trailed off without reciprocation. He hadn't expected it, no, but in her silence he could feel her hurt and her distraction from the day. Unlike those that had died in their last case, Olivia's bad dreams wouldn't be filled with monsters and demons. Peter knew they'd only be filled with Charlie and the thing that had taken him from her and no amount of talking, no amount of whiskey in a cup could delude the nightmares that would come to her.

"You're gonna be fine. But, I'm here if you need me." Peter's hand softly grazed the side of Olivia's face, a final motion of comfort as he prepared himself to stand up. The last thing he expected was for Olivia to reach out to him, to open her mouth again, but to his surprise, both happened simultaneously.

"Peter—"

Before he managed to stand up, Olivia's hand caught his that had just came off her face. She made no other move. Even in the silence, Peter's presence in the room comforted her, drew her into a deeper place where she didn't have to think about the disasters, about the other universe, hell, she didn't even have to think about Charlie. She had to think about Peter, the man offering himself to her.

Olivia watched as Peter, not even in a standing position yet, sunk back down onto the couch next to her. His body was noticeably closer than it had been just moments before, but after re-examining the own tone in her voice as she had said his name, Olivia wasn't all too surprised that he had decided to close the gap between their thighs. Need. Pure need and emotion socked all in her usually strong voice.

It wasn't often she reached out for any kind of assistance in her life, and Olivia was aware Peter knew it. The fact that she had, in one word, asked him to stay, signaled to him that her silence wasn't the cold shoulder.

It was grief.

"I'm here." Peter's fingers slipped away from Olivia's as he sat back with her, his arm coming up and around her shoulder. Both their bodies moved back into the couch as he pulled her smaller frame into his chest, feeling her curl against him for the comfort she was too proud to ask for. The smell of her hair and clothes, the sound of her breathing against his thin shirt, brought a sigh to his lips and, very slowly, he wrapped his other arm around her, too, drawing her into a full hug.

His cheek fell down against the top of her head, his stubble catching her fine, blonde hair as she moved nearer to him. This time, he let the silence swallow them whole. When he felt her head tilt up he knew her eyes were searching for his face and, giving her what she needed, his head dropped down so he could meet her gaze.

The movement brought them closer than he had intended and, with her lips just inches from his, there was only one thing he could rightfully think to do at the moment. Without a moment of hesitation he craned his neck down more to her and closed the gap between their faces, his warm lips meeting her soft ones, sealing a kiss so gentle, so long in the making, that it was nearly enough to vanquish thoughts of their past few days from both their minds.

"Livia.."


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you for the reviews, guys, it means a lot! Keep reading… things are about to get steamy ;)

Pt 2; I Didn't Come For This

With their lips still lightly pressed together, Olivia's hand began to rise from her thigh and only one thought raced through Peter's mind.

_Jesus Christ, she's probably reaching for her gun._

Kissing Olivia Dunham was probably no small feat and Peter liked to fancy that, maybe, perhaps, not that many men had actually made it out alive. He had seen what she could do with a gun, hell, with her own two hands and for a split, honest second, Peter wondered if he was next on the list of 'death by kiss.'

But instead of reaching for the hand gun resting on the table in front of them, next to the now-abandoned cups of whiskey, Olivia's hand simply came to rest on Peter's cheek, her soft, sweetly-cool fingertips grazing his stubble as her warm mouth opened once more against his, and Peter was sold.

Not wanting to deny Olivia for even a moment, Peter's mouth opened in response to hers; their parted lips aligning, pausing only for a moment to breathe one another in before Olivia's closed around Peter's lower lip. His body seemed to light on fire when he felt her teeth nip where her lips had been just a moment before and, as if he needed any more reason to continue on, her free hand slid up his shoulder and around, curling her fingertips around the back of his neck until they were lost in the dark hairs on the back of his head.

His body turned and in a swift moment, he was leaning against the back of the couch, his thighs parting far enough to draw her between them. Ten minutes ago when he had been standing outside her room, it hadn't been what he expected. Hell, no part of him had planned to seduce Olivia _like this_. He had simply been interested in letting her clear her mind. She seemed to be doing that just fine all on her own…

In a moment of tangled confusion their arms came up instantaneously; Peter to put his palms on her cheeks and Olivia to seal her arm's grasp around his neck. Allowing her to find her place first, Peter paused, waiting until he felt both her arms drape over his shoulders, all ten fingers curling into his hair, her mouth opening as another offering to him. His own hands continued their journey up her neck; cupping first her jaw, then her cheeks in his warm palms. And when Olivia's lips parted the same time as Peter's, the tip of her tongue shyly finding the tip of his before pushing forward to explore, he wondered if she had added the ability to read minds onto her list of special talents.

He could have sat forever with her between his thighs; her body curled and small against him as he stretched out to leave them both room on the couch. Forever wouldn't be long enough to feel her warm mouth enveloped by his or the way she tugged his hair when he moved his head, the tips of their noses bumping and rubbing gently the deeper they fell into the kiss. The way she moved and twisted her body against his to slip closer to his chest made his head rush with lust, or love or pure desire.

White stars began to burst behind his eyelids and for the first time it donned on Peter just how long they had been sealed in this kiss. Lost, no doubt, and with slow, regretful movements he trailed his thumbs down to the corners of her mouth, stroking the hot, baby-soft skin around her lips as he broke their contact. Again he smiled at their synchronicity; feeling the rush of her breath meet his as their foreheads dropped to rest together, breathing as if they had ran miles in the last five minutes.

"I didn't come for this."

The words left Peter's mouth as an explanation but the moment he had uttered the last syllable, he knew that it wasn't needed. No, he hadn't come to kiss her. He hadn't intended drinks to turn into _something more_ or to feel her pressed so tightly against his torso that he could tell, just tell that she wasn't wearing anything under that damn shirt. He hadn't planned to ever, not once in the course of their partnership let her see the desire and passion she ignited in him bubble up and pour over. He hadn't thought that he'd hear Olivia's breathing hitch, catch and stop when she moved and, for the first time, could feel the length of his erection against her stomach.

Olivia knew full well that Peter's intentions were only to express concern and compassion. It wasn't his fault that thousands of miles away from home, the two of them were finally allowed to explore the feelings they both denied. She didn't want to hear the explanations and excuses he didn't need and to silence him, she once again curled her fingertips into his hair. This time, her lips pursed long, wet kisses to his jaw and neck as her body shimmied out of his reach, pleasantly surprised when he moved, too, and they began their slow, lust-filled dance from the couch to the bed.


	3. Chapter 3

When they hit the bed, Peter fell down first.

As the back of his knees hit the end of the mattress, they buckled and Peter lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bed, his hands moving from Olivia's shoulders to hips in a flash as she followed suit. With her palms still resting against his cheeks and her fingertips splayed out across his temples, under his eyes and into his hair she moved down, too, one leg lifting after the other as her knees came to rest at the sides of his thighs. The mattress shifted under their new weight as Olivia drew herself into his arms again, their chests brushing only for a split second as their arms tangled up together one more time, desperate to wrap limbs around torsos to lessen the gap between their figures.

Sitting on the edge of the bed with Olivia in his lap, Peter briefly began to wonder what they odds were that the woman of his desire would realize the path they were headed down and pull the plug. Considering the last few days and more over, the last relationship Olivia had been in with a partner, Peter wouldn't even be half surprised if she did put the breaks on and kick him out.

He wondered how much longer he could feel her wet, welcoming mouth on his before she made a break for it.

The wondering ended when, with all her weight, Olivia's body pressed down against his lap.

There was something unexplainably delicious about her weight. The feeling of her petite body arching down, literally rolling into his arms, his chest, his lap made Peter's head spin again. If Olivia wanted control, she was going to have fight for it.

With his arms locked around her thin waist, Peter slid back on the mattress and rolled them over. In one fluid motion Olivia lay flat on her back under him, her legs parting enough until his hips fell between them. His lips broke from hers and he glanced down, eyes scanning her body in the dim light as his hands searched for the hem of her shirt. Impatient to feel more of her skin, Peter didn't lift the shirt off her; instead he slid his fingers up tortuously slow until his palms, warm and steady, covered the taunt, flat skin on her stomach. The muscles tensed beneath is touch and as he smiled over the feeling, Olivia did, too, turning her face enough to let the small grin disappear into the crook of his neck. The smile against his skin and the warm, distracted kisses against his skin reassured Peter there was _no_ stopping and his hands journeyed upward.

He hadn't even seen her vulnerable and bare before him and yet even in their completely dressed state, Peter knew Olivia would live up to every fantasy he had so guiltily repressed in the last year. Everything from the way her muscles tensed below his touch to the rise and fall of her ribcage under his fingertips as her breathing deepened told Peter that the woman under him, his partner, the object of his desire, was _the_ lover he was meant to have.

Peter's hands came off her ribs only to slide up and cover her chest; his palms working against the soft skin of her breasts until her body responded, her nipples pebbling against his warm grasp like a muscle-memory reflex. In a symbiotic movement, her reaction sparked one of his own and briefly, his hands left her skin to re-grasp the hem of the Northwestern shirt between them, no longer interested in keeping his actions veiled.

He slid away from her as the shirt pooled on the bed beside her body, his actions growing braver as his lips touched down against her jaw and worked lower, lower still to her neck and collarbone, over the smooth skin that only appeared to him through peeks under her button-up work shirts. When he moved and his lips aligned with her chest, the tip of his tongue almost lazily, playfully dragging between the swell of her breasts, Peter felt his own shirt bunch around the back of the neck. She wasn't grabbing him, not yet, but removing the fabric, and for a moment Peter abandoned his newfound playground to let her undress him too.

When his shirt pooled on top of hers he lowered himself down again, his chest pressing flush against her smooth stomach as he leveled himself chest-level to her. Even if the last few days hadn't been hectic, Peter still would have believed Olivia deserved slow attention, not the rush of ripping off clothes, hurried mouths and anxious hands. Not for their first time. His lips ghosted over her skin, trailing down before his lips tenderly locked around her right nipple. Olivia's lower back left the bed and her stomach pressed into his chest, willing the man hovering over her to put his hands to use, too.

Still paying tender attention to Olivia's breast with his mouth, Peter's hand raised to cup the orphan breast in his palm. His thumb passed over her nipple, still taunt from the last bit of attention he had paid it, and when Olivia's soft groan ripped through the silence of the room Peter moved his mouth near his thumb, paying her left breast equal attention as the right had received.

"Peter, please," The rush of air combined with the sound of his name leaving her mouth propelled Peter down, his tongue grazing down the shallow canyons of her ribs and across her stomach, briefly dipping into her navel before resurfacing against her abdomen. Sweet kisses and gentle, attentive love bites covered her skin and when she moved again, shifting her hips to wantonly press the heat between her legs against his body, Peter chuckled against her skin.

"Stop," Olivia said, her breath coming out as soft laughter as well; caused more by the tickling breath against her skin. When his eyes, only the deep blue pools, looked up at her questioningly she smiled and shook her head.

No, she didn't really want him to stop.

Olivia's hips raised and without question Peter slid the sweatpants off her small figure, his head dropping until his forehead met her stomach, breathing in her skin while she shimmied out of her last article of clothing. Her beauty was an understatement and Peter paid close mind again while he kissed back up her side, dying to taste her, but dying more to feel her. They were past asking permission and when his hand slipped down between her thighs, meeting with wet, hot heat, Olivia's hips came up once again.

Face to face again, lips nearly meeting, Olivia's fingers dug into Peter's hair, teasing the strands between her fingertips while his own fingers slipped into her very being. As her innermost muscles clenched around the invasion her body tensed from her diaphragm down to her thighs, hips squirming down into the bed almost away from his hand as even just his fingers made her body readjust. With wonderful pressure already building in her stomach, she sighed, the curl of Peter's fingers against her core drawing his name from her lips over and over again.

She could feel him, too, the press of his erection through his pajama bottoms against the side of her upper thigh. The heat radiating from where his fingers so expertly stroked now was only matched by the heat from his own desire and, Olivia, wanting him to feel equally as elated as she did, reached between them, her fingers, like his, curling against him.

"Livia, Jesus." The words left Peter's mouth in a hurry as her brave, wandering fingers bypassed the fabric between them all together and slid down into the hem of his pants. Her hands, soft, and still oddly cool, brushed his length only for the most succinct moment before circling his throbbing desire. In her hand, he came to life even more, hardening against the touch of her palm and the squeeze of her fingertips until Peter, too, was matching her moans, their hands working in at the same slow but frantic pace, teasing though there was no need.

The more she touched, the more Peter began to lose his edge. Composure fading, his hips rolled freely down into her palm, hardly noticing while Olivia reached around to push the pajama pants off him, finally leaving them both stripped. And when she drew him over, bringing him back once again to rest completely between her legs, his thumb never skipped a beat; still circling the most sensitive part of her sex at the same tempo as both their anxious fingers.

Moans were lost between them; fading off against one another's lips, cheeks and necks as they kissed whatever skin was most available to wandering lips. When Olivia's stopped their meandering over his skin they came to rest on the corner of his mouth, parted and panting from the ever-building pressure growing somewhere deep in her gut, driven there by his fingers.

With her body shaking, too close to coming undone, her hand left the impressive length of his shaft and traveled down to the back of his hand instead. The frustrated grunt that fell from his throat into her ear made her smile, again, and turning her head so her lips were against his skin, she purred to him.

"I need you, Peter. Please."

His fingers paused and his thumb slipped over the small ball of nerves above her entrance once more, making her hips shake again under him as he brought his eyes back to hers.

"Olivia, we don't have to."

Olivia smiled, kissing his forehead once and finding the belated concern in his voice adorable. "It's probably a little late for _that _declaration, don't you think?"

As if to prove her point, Olivia raised her body, the wet heat of her slick, hot folds sliding along his shaft. She watched his eyes half close, then shut completely as her hips rocked forward a second time and Peter, never wanting something or someone so very much in his life before, reached down for her hips, abandoning all thoughts of trying to second-guess the position they were in.

At the touch of his hands, Olivia brought her legs up; one wrapping around hips, her heel pressing into his lower back, while the other draped over his side, her foot lazily dangling down until her toes were touching his calf. Her arms wrapped around his neck and his hands moved to rest beside her head, keeping his body propped up over hers. When Olivia's hips came up, Peter met her and slowly, gently took her completely until his length was inside her.

They sighed in unison. Olivia's heel pressed into his lower back, pulling his body into hers impossibly closer. The throb that had began in her gut moved south as warm, wet heat began flooding from her center over her body over her limbs and stomach, her head rushing as Peter's hips first pulled back, slowly, before slipping back into the sweet relief of her body. He found his pace – measured and deliberate but filled with passion all the same. Sliding against her slick heat, he groaned and dropped his head to her neck, his tongue and lips tracing patterns over her skin as hips careened down into hers steadily. By the time Olivia had found his pace, arching off the bed to match his every downward motion, Peter's fingers had sunk into her hair, tangled in the delicate, blonde strands as he claimed her for his own.

The air felt thick, Olivia thought, her hands sliding out of Peter's hair and over his shoulders and sweat-coated back, hanging onto him for what seemed to be dear life. He filled her to the brink of comfort with every thrust and while it took her breath from her very lungs, she craved more. Holding his shoulders, her knees moved instantaneously, pivoting them to the side until Peter took the hint, rolling over with her and letting her take control.

She came to rest on top of him, her hips wiggling down into his lap as she adjusted her throbbing core against his painfully hard length; a giggle leaving her lips at the way Peter's hips came up eagerly. _Good God_, Peter thought, watching the woman on top of him, _his_ Olivia Dunham now, lean down and press her lips to his, willfully sucking in his bottom lip as her hips finally began their motion. With all of him inside her, she rocked back and forth over his thighs, her short-but-sharp fingernails digging into his sides for balance as she bounced over him. When Peter's hands traveled up her stomach to cup her chest again, pinching her nipples lightly until they turned to tiny stones in his hand, Olivia's head dropped back, and she clenched around him.

"Oh, Peter, _please_."

"Liv, Livvy.." Peter obliged, being able to read Olivia's body as she shook over him. She was close, possibly even there. Right where he wanted her. He sat up fast, rolling them back over hastily, their bodies barely meeting the bed again before Peter's hips pushed down hard into hers. The soft cry that she emitted told him enough and on her cue, his name freely spilling out from between her lips, he poured his strength into her.

_Peter, yes, Peter, Peter… _her voice rang out in his head as his hips crashed into hers with reckless abandon, her body spiraling and his, too, the moans, cries and soft screams mixing with the humid, thick air above them in the room. When Olivia came undone, her entire body stiffened against his; her soft, damp stomach and chest pressing flush against his, body shaking, walls spasming around his shaft as the warm, wet heat rushed out of her, and against him. The cry of his name and the grip on his shoulder pushed Peter over and, releasing her name from his mouth, he spilled into her heat, both their bodies shaking.

For a moment, there was only the feeling of their lips pressed together, gentle butterfly kisses here and there while breathing returned to normal. When Olivia relaxed, her grasp finally setting him free, Peter slipped off her, only moving far enough to lie against her, his head dropping to her breasts, his arm idly draping over her stomach. Olivia's own hands found their path – one sliding down the center of his back while the other curled into the mass of damp, dark hair on his head.

Sweaty and breathless, intertwined with Peter Bishop, she was happy.

**A/N **Thank you for still reading, guys. It's not over yet (though it could be…) but I've got a little more left in me. Thank you, also, for all the kind reviews from those of you following this. You're awesome. I hope you're still enjoying :)


	4. Chapter 4

Peter's first conscious thought the morning after was that something was not quite right. The sunlight beating on his eyelids was all wrong for his east-facing hotel room, unless he had slept clear to sundown. Doubtful. And the warmth pressed against him, breathing slowly in his arms…well, that shouldn't have been there, either.

_Olivia_.

In doubt, and a little bit of shock, Peter Bishop's eyes shot open and everything suddenly made sense. Sunlight may not have crept into his east-facing room but it sure would in Olivia's west-facing one. And as for the warmth, the breathing, the soft skin. Well…

Olivia.

The night before came flooding back to Peter slowly. The social call that been planned as drinks and a check-up had progressed to kisses and her hips grinding down deliciously into his. Apparently it had gone so far as her fingernails in his back; now Peter could feel the soft burn on his shoulders, rubbing against the sheets, where she had left welts along him. God, Olivia Dunham had been in his arms, writhing and moaning and begging for him as he claimed her after what felt like a lifetime of want.

And there she was, still in his arms from the previous night, though now she was curled on her side, back pressed to his chest. Had they slept this way, her head resting on one of his arms, bent on her pillow, while his other arm was tightly wrapped around her torso; hand pressed just below her breast against her rib? Both of her arms curled protectively against her own ribs, subsequently burying his draped arm below hers. Under the covers he could feel her legs tangled up in his and the soft press of her toes against his calf and ankle. He was stiff enough to feel as if he hadn't moved all night and, despite the building tension growing in all his muscles, he couldn't care less. Hell, he was just where he wanted to be.

The universe must have had other plans for him though, because as Peter moved to wrap himself tighter around Olivia's sleeping body, the alarm clock by the bed began to chirp. For the first time he moved his eyes to check the time – 7:10 a.m.

Out of instinct, Olivia moved to the edge of the bed, her hand reaching out and swatting the clock like an annoying fly until the room was silent again. When she moved back to the middle of the bed, she slid over onto her other side, her open eyes meeting Peter's with a smile.

"Hi."

"Should have known you'd be one to get up way too early," Peter's voice came out thick, ridden with sleep and he cleared his throat as he offered her a smile. "Good morning."

She turned, twisting her small figure against his, offering back a similar smile. Was that shyness on Olivia Dunham's face?

"Sorry about the alarm. Our flight back to Boston is in a couple of hours so we probably shouldn't wait around too long before heading to the airport. I should shower."

Peter nodded once, silent, his eyes settling on hers. He wasn't sure if it was his cue to leave or to offer to buy her breakfast. At least coffee, after the night before. "Sure. I'll have to call Walter and tell him we're coming back, and I should probably pack."

The words had barely left his mouth and Olivia was sliding back up against him, the delicious friction of his body rubbing against hers enough to propel her forward a little bit more. Her lips first hit the corner of his mouth, kissing gently, but Peter wasn't satisfied. His head swiftly turned and captured her lips in his, giving her the opportunity to pull back if she wanted. When she didn't, he lifted his body off the bed enough to roll her onto her back, pinning her against the mattress. Into his lips, he felt her sigh and when she wiggled, flattening herself more below him, Peter felt his desire for her beginning to stir all over again.

God, they needed to talk. Olivia knew that eventually, they'd have to come around to the conversation of what the actual hell was going on. Just around the time she had met Peter she had made a pact not to do what she had with John. No more romance with partners, she had said, but now Peter's tongue was expertly exploring the soft skin down her collarbone and chest. Oh, they needed to talk, but by the time Peter's tongue dipped in her navel and his lips were flattening kisses down her taunt abdomen, Olivia knew it was hopeless.

Olivia wasn't sure what had happened first – her fingers curling into his hair or her legs parting so his chest could rest against the bed. The blur began when Peter's tongue, then lips, grazed her inner thigh, tasting her skin with the purpose of teasing.

"Peter.." Olivia felt him smile against the skin on her thigh, sucking the pale flesh just hard enough to redden where his lips had been. Even before looking down, she knew that smirk was still plastered on his face. She wanted to slap the look right off his face. When she groaned in frustration, the smirk widened and he chuckled; his warm breath floating against her dampening skin, the light stubble tickling not just her thighs, but _elsewhere_ now.

She opened her mouth, prepared to snap his name again but all that came out was a gasp. His tongue, wet and warm and erect, pressed against her clit; the tip of his tongue teasing the small bundle of nerves. Olivia felt the rush of heat pour into her already wet core, and against her better judgment her hips raised nearer to his mouth.

"Yes," she purred softly, her fingers tangling in the already mussed strands of his hair. As his tongue found a rhythm, sliding against her clit just rapidly enough to make the muscles in her legs tighten, her hips matched the feeling, rolling up to meet his mouth, both verbally and physically asking him for more.

Peter's hands slid under her thighs, face-up to cup her perfectly-rounded ass in his palms so he could more easily hold her hips off the bed. The change in the angle was all he needed and as she moaned with understanding and lifted her legs, one at a time, to rest over his shoulders, Peter buried his tongue in her throbbing core.

Olivia tensed, the heat flooding down her arms and abdomen, into her center and through her thighs as Peter's tongue worked against her expertly. He devoured her and as he worked, Olivia's body slid further and further down the bed, her body aching to be closer to his mouth and for deeper attention. When she had slid far enough so her knees were draped over his shoulders and her heels digging into his back, she held herself as steady as she could under the pleasurable feeling of his tongue lapping up her wetness.

Her moans came steadily now; the room filled with the sound of small grunts and his name, said in heavy, deep breaths that ended in hitches and soft cries. She had a feeling he knew that even just his tongue alternating attention against her swollen clit and burning hot center would be enough to push her over.

But pushing her over the edge wasn't Peter's goal. He wanted Olivia to come so hard she'd forget her goddamn _name_.

With his lips locked around her clit, tongue rolling slowly, expertly, against the swollen bud, Peter moved his hand to rest close to her core. If she had noticed, she hadn't shown it – still breathing as heavily as she had been, bucking closer to his mouth – the shock of it would bring her over that much quicker. With his hand palm up again, Peter slipped his index and middle finger into Olivia's heat, matching his thrusting pace with the work his tongue was still doing against her clit.

White and red stars exploded behind Olivia's eyelids when Peter doubled up his attention on her body. Her hips, already off the bed, arched higher, driving her heels harder against the muscles on Peter's back. There would be bruises there with the pressure she applied, her hips now rolling down into his mouth _and _fingers unabashedly as an orgasm so powerful built inside her, she thought it might rip her in two.

Peter had known Olivia's composure wouldn't hold her much longer, and when her hips stilled and tensed and her thighs tightened against his shoulders, he knew she was at her edge. And Olivia, for all her attempts to hold herself back, failed when Peter's fingers curled up, rubbing pressure to her most sensitive inner spot. With a shudder so violent that Peter's eyes opened and swooped up to her face, brows furrowed, bottom lip trapped between her teeth, Olivia came undone in a rush; heat spilling against Peter's hand and lips as she shook and clenched against him.

Only when Olivia's legs fell away from his shoulders did Peter relinquish his power over her. He moved back from her, tongue and lips devouring her juices off his own fingers before trailing wet, light kisses back up to her stomach where he rested his head, letting her catch her breath. As her hand, weak and nearly lifeless now, moved up and sunk into the hair on the back of his head, Peter smiled, cocking his head upward enough to smile at the exhausted, flushed and flawless woman he could still taste on his lips.

The sweet smile she returned to him twisted his stomach in knots and, kissing her skin, he grinned up at her before he spoke; that same grin that made her want to slap him so fiercely.

"How about that shower?"

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><p><strong>AN<strong> Thank you for the reviews, favorites, etc, you wonderful people. You are all brilliant! I feel a little more coming from this one, perhaps..


	5. Chapter 5

A week after Seattle, Peter found his eyes glued to the thing that was once a body in front of him. Back in Boston, the fringe team was back on the cases of the weird and unusual, including the present, newly horrifying trend of half-liquefied human remains scattered around Boston and the outlying areas. To Peter, though, possibly the most unusual of all things in the last week was the mysterious silence of Olivia Dunham.

Alright. Peter hadn't expected some grand revelation of love to come from their night and subsequent morning after together across the country, but he had expected at least… _anything_. Their morning after, complete with fooling around, a fairly steamy shower (heat had nothing to do with it) and breakfast had been the collective most that Peter had seen of Olivia in the last seven days. Not for lack of trying, either. Coming back to Boston, case-less, Olivia's silence to Peter had suggested to him that she was busy with life and, in a couple of days when things settled down, she'd reappear or call, and they could talk about what had gone on. But four days into their return was filled with so much silence that Peter had actually breathed a sigh of relief over the idea of visiting some new, horrific crime scene. Hey, as long as it was with Olivia.

Peter hadn't even stopped to think that being on a scene with other agents and Broyles, Olivia would be even less receptive to him than she had been over the last week. Unfortunately for him, it had been exactly the case when he and Walter finally arrived – Olivia wasn't cold with him. Oh no, it wasn't the cold shoulder, it was even worse.

She was completely normal.

Peter's eyes scanned over the had-been leg, now a tan-colored puddle next to a gelatinous looking hipbone, but his brain wasn't processing the image. Nor was his brain processing whatever Walter had said, but the thoughtful, seriously look on his face probably had given the impression that he _was _on the same page as everyone else. Unless everyone else was wondering if Peter had hallucinated Olivia writhing against a shower wall, calling out his name as she came seven days ago, it probably wasn't the case.

"Do you think he could be right?"

Olivia's question was directed at Peter and when she asked, he looked up, opening his mouth to answer before realizing he had _no_ idea whatsoever what Walter had hypothesized.

"I'm sorry. Could you.. again? I was thinking about something else."

Olivia's eyes caught his subtly. There it was – that momentary pause that told him she knew _exactly _what he had been thinking about, and that she wasn't going to respond to it. It was proof positive that Peter hadn't imagined the trip to Seattle, but still, with Olivia, it got him nowhere.

"Walter said vibrations. That somehow, it's possible that strong enough vibrations could probably degrade molecules enough to go from a solid to liquid state. Though it doesn't explain why the rest of the body is still mostly solid. Is that crazy?"

Peter didn't know about degrading molecules and matter states, but he sure did know that _some _vibrations from his vocal cords with his mouth pressed against the swell of Olivia's sex had nearly been enough to liquefy _her._

It probably shouldn't be said.

"Yeah," he answered instead, walking around the solid side of the body and trying as much as possible to keep his head in the game. "It could be possible, I'm sure. Strong enough vibrations could probably break down anything, why not a solid to a liquid if the technology was advanced enough."

Walter slid up against Peter, his hand gripping his son's jacket as he directed his words to Olivia.

"Agent Dunham, I'm going to need this body back at my lab, a-and the liquefied portion. Perhaps Alstrad could bring down the hand compressor to transfer the sample. It seems quite thick, like maple syrup." Walter paused, looking back to Peter with a nod. "I'm going to make waffles for dinner tonight, Peter. And bacon."

"That's great, Walter, but you should probably concentrate on liquid man here before the waffles. Olivia can proba—"

Before even getting the chance to finish his suggestion that Olivia could find an easier way to transfer human liquefied remains, Peter noticed that the woman in question was already halfway across the crime scene. If he hadn't been sure she was avoiding him before, he was now.

"Walter, stay _right_ here. I will be _right _back," Peter clasped his hands over Walter's shoulders before turning, taking off in a half-jog to catch up with Olivia, only looking over his shoulder to yell back to his father. "And don't touch that body without your gloves on!"

Just as Olivia stepped outside the yellow police tape, Peter caught up to her. If she hadn't stopped to talk to an agent about helping Walter procure the body, she probably would have slipped away from Peter once more.

"Livia, wait." Peter's slender, tall body swooped under the police tape as she turned back to look at him. He was struck by the slight panic covering her features and only then did he understand how badly Olivia had wanted to slip away without having to be alone with Peter. A week after sleeping together, watching her giggle and smile at him in the most delicious way, Olivia was back to being even more standoffish than she had ever been with him.

"Peter," Olivia paused, her lips pursing. Ah, yes, Peter though, she only did that thing with her mouth when she was being evasive. "I was going to go back to the Federal Building and see if I could pull up any leads on human liquefaction. If I find something, I'll bring it down to the lab for Walter, but if not I was thinking-"

Peter stopped her, putting up a hand to signal that he could care less about the current case, as if she hadn't figured that out already by his absentminded demeanor. As he closed the gap between the two of them Olivia visibly tensed but Peter took her arm anyway, gently cradling her elbow in his palm and pulling her out of earshot of everyone else around them.

"Don't you think we should talk, Livia? About last week. Seattle. I haven't heard from you since."

"I know, I'm sorry." Olivia's lips pursed again, her eyes darting down and away from Peter's as she dug the SUV keys out of her jacket pocket, backing away from him slightly. "We'll talk, Peter, we will. But right now, I'm sorry, I've got to go do this. You understand."

"Livia," Without waiting for his reply, Olivia turned and ran across the street to her car, yanking the door open and disappearing behind the tinted windows. When the lights came on and the vehicle pulled into the street, then disappeared, Peter was still watching the center of affection go.

Understand? He most definitely did not.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>Ah, hell, you know it's bad when Peter is saying no to bacon. Resolution next chapter? I think maybe. Peter can only be avoided for so long, my loves. As always, the reviews are much appreciated. The next chapter should be up in a day or two!


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N Oh man, I owe you guys so much. Two days apparently means two weeks between work and sudden out of town trips. Here it is, and I owe you (at least) one more for being such good sports.**

_In public, he'd never have a chance._

Hadn't that thought been the very one that propelled Peter to pay Olivia the now infamous visit at her room while they were in Seattle? He'd never have a chance. Never have her. Olivia, Liv, Livvy, Livia… all the names Peter called her in private disappeared when the two of them were out in the world. She became Agent Olivia Dunham and Peter, damn it, he had known that. He had _known_ for years that she wasn't the same in private that she was on the job. _He'd never have a chance_. Peter had known and for some reason, he had approached her anyway.

Hindsight. Trying to talk to Olivia on a case with their boss present and their colleagues, it had been a bad choice on Peter's part. Olivia hadn't wanted to talk about Seattle and Peter had pushed anyway, but more importantly he had pushed in public. God, it had been a bad move and two days after the incident, Peter had received nothing but an increase in the tense silence surrounding Olivia.

She was avoiding him like the plague. Since the confrontation not even 48 hours behind them, Peter had seen Olivia at the lab once, talking with Walter. As soon as Peter walked through the door Olivia had found a reason to excuse herself. It was like she wasn't even the same woman; the one warm and cuddling against him in a hotel bed, kissing the back of his neck in the shower, smiling at him on the flight back to Boston… that woman was gone.

If she wanted to forget, Peter wasn't going to give up without a fight. At the very least Olivia owed Peter an explanation of what had happened across the country and subsequently since, and if she wasn't going to come to him, well, he'd just have to go to her.

It would have been a lie to say he wasn't nervous, standing at Olivia's closed door with a million different thoughts floating through his head. He had no idea what he would say to her; it hadn't been a planned outing. With Walter out for the night (out, as in passed out. Peter couldn't have asked for a better night for his father to dose himself) Peter had left his thoughts at the Bishop household and left for Olivia's. And somewhere lost in his thoughts, he must have knocked on the door because before he was prepared, Olivia answered.

"Peter," the shock in Olivia's voice resonated between them despite her obvious best attempt to sound casual. Quite honestly, her tone was the last thing Peter was concentrated on as she stood before him, blocking the doorway as a clear sign that if she had her way, she wasn't going to willingly let him in. "Everything okay?"

_God, _she was beautiful; still dressed from work – standard black pants, black jacket, white button up shirt, but minus the shoes, her hair fanned out over her shoulders. Even without seeing her during the day Peter knew the long blonde locks had been up during the day; the small crease in her hair was a dead giveaway. Why couldn't the circumstances be different? What he would give to be visiting her after work, socially, as something more than partners, instead of desperately tracking her down to try and mend something that had apparently broke in her eyes.

"Everything's fine, yeah—Actually, no. Olivia, can I come in?"

There it was. The tell-tale upset face from Olivia that Peter had recognized after only a few days of working alongside her. That thing with her mouth; lips pressed together impossibly tight, forced slightly to one side. He could read all over her face how badly she wanted to say no to him.

"Liv, please," Peter said softly, his eyes and voice softening when she didn't move aside immediately. "Please let me come in."

She hesitated one more moment before stepping back, one hand remaining on her door as Peter slipped past her and inside the apartment. It was uncomfortable already and Peter made no move to sit on the couch as Olivia closed the door and turned to him, her face set and strikingly calm.

If she wouldn't speak first, he would.

"I'm sorry for trying to talk to you the other day when we were all out. It was the first time I saw you after the trip and I just, it was an opportunity. And a week later, Olivia, I thought we might need to discuss… something." Peter shrugged as the last word left his mouth, his hands sliding into his jean pockets as he searched Olivia's face for something, anything. Any emotion that let him know she was there with him.

She shrugged, her lips scrunching together and raising on one side of her face as she watched him. "Discuss what, Peter?"

"We slept together, Olivia."

"We shouldn't have."

It would have hurt less if Olivia had slapped him in the face. Stunned, Peter stared at the petite woman in front of him; her arms crossed over her chest in a defensive, self-protective manner, her face still set and steady. From the look on her face Peter couldn't tell if she meant it or if she was throwing up walls. The only thing he knew was that if she were trying to get rid of him it wouldn't be that easy.

"You can't possibly mean that, Olivia. That night—"

"That night," Olivia started softly, her eyes burning into Peter's as she cut him off. "Was a mistake. Was comfort. We were stressed, _I_ was stressed and it shouldn't have happened, Peter. You and I, we're partners."

Peter swallowed hard, his jaw clenched and face set just like Olivia's, though instead of the strange, serene calm she seemed to have, his eyes were beginning to burn with anger. She would never be a mistake to him.

"Partners? Do you often have sex with your partners? Sleep with them? Spend the night with them?"

The words left his mouth before Peter had a chance to fully think through what he was saying. The words hung heavy in the air between them and while it took Peter a moment to realize what he had just thrown at Olivia, it seemed to dawn on her instantly what he had said.

"Please go home, Peter."

"Olivia, I didn't mean—"

"Please go _home_, Peter."

A less determined man would have walked out. Someone who didn't know Olivia quite as well as Peter would have left without an explanation, without clearing the air. A better man, maybe, would have given Olivia her space and would have let her think what had happened was a mistake. Peter had never considered himself to be a very great man, anyway.

Instead of walking for the door, Peter walked across the room – four, maybe five steps until he was in front of Olivia. The strong front Olivia's face had taken on upon opening the door to confront him was still washed over her features, but her eyes gave her away. Behind them Peter could see the hurt he had put there by the unintentional comment. A wrong he had to right.

"Livvy," his voice was no more than a whisper as he reached up and with both hands, cupped her cheeks in his palms. She had done something wrong by turning him away so quickly after they had been together, but he had hurt her, too, and before jumping to the conclusion that it had been him that drove her away, Peter now thought, looking down at her, that he should have more carefully looked at her past.

"I didn't mean that, Liv, I wasn't thinking. You caught me off guard." He paused, waiting to see if she'd break the silence and when she didn't speak or pull back, Peter's thumbs ran over the smooth skin of her cheeks.

Her eyes closed as he stroked her skin, so lovingly and tenderly that Peter knew right away what Olivia had been hiding from. The comfort that had been between them that night and the next day, the closeness and just the feeling of it being right had scared her. More than he probably could imagine; he had never lost someone the way Olivia had in her past.

"You and I, Olivia, we weren't a mistake. We didn't _make_ a mistake. I don't know for sure why you're running away from me now that we're back, I have ideas, but I haven't stopped thinking about what happened, Olivia. I haven't stopped thinking about you. I'm not running away. You were happy, I saw it and you were different. And Olivia, if you want me to leave, to go and never bring this up again…" Peter stopped, contemplating his next statement as his eyes bore down into hers, his spirits the least bit lifted now that she was looking back up to him. "If you say it, I'll go. But I can't until I hear the words from you."

He had expected her silence. The tension between them was slightly awkward but not entirely uncomfortable, and when Olivia parted her lips, with her eyes on Peter, he braced himself for the worst.

Olivia, lips parted, leaned up and moved her small palms over his stubble-covered cheeks. When she pressed her open mouth to his, she swallowed down the words asking him to leave and burying them inside her, and instead let her body curl into his; arms and lips entwining as Peter received his answer.


	7. Chapter 7

Judging by the ambiance of the room, it was snowing outside. The room was dark and mellow even with the curtains over the windows slightly left open, and with the clock reading past seven in the morning, Peter knew that if it weren't snowing he'd have a face-full of sun at the moment. Not now, though, and that was just fine with him.

He shifted in bed, his head rolling first to the left; the empty glass of wine on the nightstand and his watch, open wallet and phone strewn across the nightstand the first objects that came into his vision. A smile creased the edges of his mouth and, loving the warmth of the sheets and duvet around him, he slid down further into the almost too comfortable spot he had made in the bed before his head turned back to the right. This time, no personal affects caught his eye first – just the small, blanket-clad blonde mess of hair at his side. Even curled almost as tight as she could go, her back to him, Peter thought she might be the most beautiful sight he had ever seen in the morning.

Despite the comfort in his current position, Peter rolled over to his right until his bare hip slid against the sheet, laying on his side and watching the little blonde ball of covers rise and fall steadily. Olivia was still asleep. This time there was no 7 a.m. alarm to jar them from blissful unconsciousness and Peter couldn't have been happier about it. Being able to watch her sleep, even if she was half-hidden, well, it was just worth it.

His eyes dragged from the back of her head to the nightstand on her side of the bed, neater than his by far but, hey, she _lived_ here, of course half her personal belongings weren't cluttered on it. Instead, her own empty glass of wine to match Peter's, a glass of water and oddly enough, Peter's driver's license.

His eyes narrowed, then relaxed a moment later, a very quick smile coming to him and this time a chuckle, too, closing his eyes again as his hand found its way under the covers and to Olivia's warm hip, stroking her skin softly as he thought about the night before.

_So they were just sandwiches. Sitting in Olivia's kitchen, two half-empty plates in front of them and half-full glasses of wine, Peter couldn't have been happier to occupy his night anywhere else but with her. The kiss, the invitation to stay from Olivia was enough for Peter on its own but a night with her to just relax and not think about people icing over or spontaneous combustion or the world falling apart… that just made it better._

"_You're kidding, you're lying!" Peter laughed, sitting back in his chair as Olivia stood to clear the plates in front of them, taking both to the sink and rinsing them as Peter's voice raised an octave from mock outrage. "How have you _never_ seen Indiana Jones? Any of them!"_

"_I thought they looked stupid, I never saw them!" Olivia laughed, too, her back turned from Peter as both the dishes found their way into the dishwasher. By that time, he was up, both glasses of wine in his hands as he came to stand next to her._

_The glasses hit the counter as Peter only half-feigned shock, his head shaking slowly as the petite blonde turned her head to look up at him. "I cannot believe what I'm hearing. I should go."_

_Laughter, again, this time the both of them as Olivia reached back and grabbed the bottle of wine they had opened together. The first refill she had asked if he wanted more, this time she poured without permission, filling both their glasses once more before her eyes raised to his coyly, almost affectionately._

"_Do you want to go sit on the couch?" Peter nodded in response to the question, picking up both the glasses again as Olivia took the bottle, disappearing first to the couch with him close on her heels._

Peter's eyes opened. Had he dozed? At least twenty minutes, according to the clock near Olivia's glass of wine. It didn't seem that she had moved at all next to him, the bump of covers that made up Olivia Dunham still rose and fell as steadily as they had when he had first awoke and under them his hand was still on her waistline. One small change to the setting; she may have not woken while he slept but her hand had crept over his and now her fingers were gently half-laced with his on her hip. He smiled sleepily into the pillow, eyes falling shut once more. It wasn't the first time he had ever felt her fingers laying against his, but it was one of the first like _this_, like the night before.

"_I just knew then, you know? I always knew what I wanted to do. Ever since I was a kid this is the life I wanted. Maybe not this weird one in particular but something like this. FBI work."_

_Peter nodded, his eyes set and steady at the woman on the couch with him. Their bodies were turned into one another and at only a few inches apart, they were close enough to touch if they wanted. Almost four hours they had been talking about life and joking, the bottle of wine disappearing in no hurry and more casually now than to calm their nerves. If they had been lying down together, Peter might have considered it pillow talk. Sitting up, they were getting to know each other._

"_That's impressive. Commendable. I never had that feeling. My mother and I were too busy just living without Walter around for me to think about what I wanted to do. At some point, it was easier to just drop out and find my own way. Find my way.. away from where I was. It never sat right."_

_Olivia smiled. Her body shifted, knee gently brushing against his as she turned just slightly more toward him. Body language would say she was interested in what he was saying, or him, even, and both were true. "You were lucky. Even dropping out, with as smart as you are it worked."_

_Peter laughed softly, the creases around his eyes coming into play as his smile formed at her compliment. It was subtle but it was there; _as smart as he was _was something she liked about him._

"_There are smarter."_

"_Peter."_

_Now it was a compliment, she had rejected his modesty. The IQ was something easy to ignore until someone pointed it out to him, otherwise it seemed like anyone else's test scores. Coming from anyone else it would mean very little, but from Olivia it had potential to make him smile. _

"_Well," he said, his hand relocating from the back of the couch to her knee, rubbing her skin through the fabric of the pantsuit. "It wasn't doing me too much good until someone came along and gave me some purpose."_

"Peter," _And she leaned in, finally, their lips sealed tightly and everything else faded from him._

He must have been thinking about it. Her voice, the tone, so soft and welcoming was echoing in his head but Olivia was still fast asleep. He could watch her forever, he still thought, but if the previous night was any indication of their future Peter thought he might finally have the chance to actually watch her morning after morning. And if that were the case, waking her today wouldn't make him miss out on too much.

"Livia," He spoke softly, his voice thick with sleep still as he slid up until his chest was pressed against her bare back, the hand on her hip shaking her own fingers away and sliding down her taunt stomach, around her small abdomen until he had her locked in his arm. "Livia."

He pressed his lips to the concave of her ear, kissing her skin not once, but twice, his fingers almost playfully tickling her hip that was still pressed tightly into the bed. The movement she gave off told him that she was waking up and when he pressed his chest into her back a little more, leaning over with the purpose of kissing around her temple, her eyes opened lazily.

It seemed to take her a moment to clear her head and come to, no doubt inwardly questioning for a moment why Peter was in bed with her, literally nuzzling his nose against the side of her head. It had taken Peter a moment, too, and any fears that had momentarily sprung up about her regretting this again were washed away when she rolled more onto her back, or attempted; rather rolling her shoulder into his chest until they were pressed tightly together.

"You're still here."

There was shock in her voice, not outwardly noticeable but there all the same and Peter nodded down at her a couple of times, fingers splaying along the ultra-soft skin along her hip bone. "Where else would I go, Liv?"

It was rhetorical and she knew he wasn't looking for an answer. He wanted her to know, to be completely sure that he wasn't going to run or leave, and that he hadn't changed his mind from the previous night. He hadn't changed his mind since Seattle and, finally, it seemed to be hitting her just how serious Peter was.

She rolled further against him, her shoulder pressing hard against his chest until he slid back enough to give her the room to roll over completely so they were chest to chest. Peter's hand around her abdomen stayed below the covers, locking her against him, while the other moved into her hair. Somewhere Peter had heard that eye contact became uncomfortable after nine seconds time, but looking down at Olivia, his fingers twisting into her hair as his blue orbs focused on her greenish-hazel ones, he couldn't imagine _ever_ feeling uncomfortable locking that look with her.

"_What are you doing?" Peter entered Olivia's bedroom again with a laugh, a glass of water in his hand. Olivia, still in bed, though now sitting up against the headboard, with the sheet pulled up under her arms, hair down and fanned out over her shoulders, had fished Peter's wallet out of his jeans and was slowly going through the contents._

"_I wanted to see if you took a bad driver's license photo," she paused, setting down the contents in her lap and reaching for the glass of water as he came to the bed. She thanked him with a smile before bringing it to her lips, drinking and setting it on the bedside table. "You know this thing is expired?"_

"_I was out of the country."_

"_You drove my government car with this."_

_Peter smiled. Olivia had a feeling it was the look he gave to people when he was trying to get out of trouble. Too charming for his own good, too handsome. Olivia knew she'd run into trouble trying to be angry at him in the future if he flashed her that look._

"_I work for the FBI. It's okay," He told her, sliding back down under the sheets with her and fitting himself close enough so their shoulders touched. He watched her rifle through the cards in his possession, everything from credit cards to frequent eater punch cards, no doubt several of which he kept for Walter. "You know you're going through my entire life, here."_

_Olivia smiled, pursing her lips as she slipped a few cards back in the slots, nodding and speaking without making eye contact. "Better than any file I could have had on you, I'm sure."_

_Peter laughed, reaching down into her lap and scooping up the wallet and cards, quickly setting them on the surface near the bed before he leaned back into Olivia. She was so different than she had been in the past, even different than the days in Seattle. Maybe he was a fool not to ask her how she felt now that he was back in her good graces but even unspoken, Peter was sure there was no running now._

_He turned, pushing Olivia's shoulder gently until she slid back down; back flat against the mattress and he crawled over her, grinning. "I'll give _you_ a file.."_

"Where are you?"

Peter blinked, his eyes refocusing on Olivia's face in front of him. Slight concern showed around her brows and the corners of her mouth and Peter knew without asking what she was worried about. One day she'd learn he wasn't going anywhere.

"Right here. I'm right here with you," He smiled down at her, his fingers twisting out of her hair enough to trail down her face. He cupped her cheek in his hand, prepared to tell her more, comfort her, but she never gave him the chance.

Peter's mouth met Olivia's in time for her to catch his bottom lip between both of hers. When she slid over, laying once again on her back and spreading her legs ever so slightly, Peter moved over, too, following the hints she gave him, that he was learning, until he was over her again. She had been more subtle the night before; her hand gently resting on his thigh or her fingers twisting into his hair – hints that signaled she wanted something, _him_. He was sure they were still there but now, at least at the very moment they were in now, he knew exactly what was on her mind.

Sliding between her legs, his bare flesh met hers instantly. The feeling was enough to make him draw in a breath against her lips. There needn't be anything even overly sexual about what they were doing; just the simple feel of Olivia's skin on his was enough to make him feel like he had to gasp for her. But like this, _completely_ pressed to her, it made him feel like he was drowning. The swell of her breasts pressed into his chest was more prevalent as Peter could feel her nipples pebbling against his skin, pressed hard to him as her arousal grew. Every breath she took against his slightly parted mouth drew her stomach muscles in, creating a small space between them that disappeared every time Olivia wiggled herself closer up against Peter's abdomen. And, _god, _her hips; no doubt now slightly bruised from the night before, rolling up against his slowly, teasingly, and he could feel her growing wet for him, against him.

How was it possible this woman was even real?

Olivia's thighs raised and pressed around Peter's waistline, the pads of her feet coming to repose against the backs of his calves. Even the feeling of her toes, cool but soft, pressing into the muscles lining the back of his legs made the blood rush out of Peter's head. He groaned, allowing her to slide her smooth inner thigh up his side a bit more, the room allowing his now completely full erection to slide between her thighs without entering her.

"You're horrible," he whispered softly, Olivia only proving his point further by rocking her hips forward, letting his length slide through her wet warmth. "_Liv_ia."

Unable to take the tone in Peter's voice, she arched up, her hips sliding up gracefully until his head pressed eagerly to her core and, with the roll of her hips upward as his angled down, he entered her, filling her as their lips met, too. He swallowed down her moan but the clench of her walls around him and her fingers already biting into the skin along his shoulders went untamed and when Peter, confident that Olivia was ready, began to thrust his hips forward into hers, both actions on her part only increased.

As Peter pushed forward, his hips meeting Olivia's completely, he felt her body tense and arch as the small of her back left the bed, forcing a wedge between them as she gasped at the feeling of his fullness. He shifted, leaving one hand on the bed against her side while he brought the other between them, cupping her perfect handful of a breast in his palm as he lowered his head to her chest. With his hips never missing a beat, his tongue trailed around her nipple, still entirely hard from the skin-to-skin contact between them, teasing and toying with it against his mouth before sucking it past his lips. When her back arched again, this time from his mouth on her chest, Peter only switched from breast to breast, leaving Olivia to call out his name softly into the otherwise quiet room.

Seemingly unbeknown to either of them his hips had picked up speed and in return, hers had as well, rocking into one another hurriedly as each approached their peaks. When Peter's hand moved away from her breasts, although his lips didn't, he slid his fingers down between her ribcage and abdomen, between her hipbones to her rocking lower half. The slick heat between them was like a magnet to his hand and as he twisted his palm to face her skin, his fingertips brushed her clit once, twice, gently, testing her reaction.

Olivia's hips left the bed again, this time more violently and as they did so, Peter was buried deep in her warmth. In unison they moaned, Olivia's head tilting back into the pillow while Peter's finally left her breast, coming to rest with his forehead against hers. Peter's fingers, slick now against Olivia's hot skin, only continued for a few more moments before Olivia's body tensed into his chest, her muscles quivering around Peter's impressive length for a second more before a wave of warmth washed over her and she said his name again, clawing at the skin on his back as she came. Her cries and the tightness of her body left Peter no choice and before Olivia had even relaxed, he had joined her over the edge.

"_What are we going to do?"_

_Peter, on his back, looked down at Olivia as she spoke, curled on her side against him, head resting on his chest. They had both regained their composure and Peter's only regret was the glass of water brought before was empty, and this time he wasn't getting up so quickly to refill it. _

"_We're going to be fine. Didn't I tell you that in Seattle?"_

"_You said _I'd_ be fine." It was clearer now; her voice was thicker with sleep than he had caught the first time. Her worries, hopefully the last of them for the time been, were sleep-ridden fears about not just their relationship, but their lifestyle in general. And Peter had already promised her safety._

"_You will be fine." Peter paused; his finger raking through Olivia's slightly tangled blonde locks. "I'm going to see to it."_

_Silence. When he glanced down again, she had fallen asleep. _

Olivia was back on her side, Peter still on his back as his breathing evened back out. Hers had, too, from the sound of it, and he reached over for her, rubbing her shoulder, he felt her move back to get more from his touch.

"Peter."

"I'm here."

A pause. "What you said in Seattle."

"Mm?"

Her pause, longer this time, told him that the previous night's conversation had been too late for her – insecurities were still something present for her. And instead of letting Olivia run from him again, instead of not talking like Seattle after their night together, Peter didn't wait for Olivia to speak first.

"What I told you was Charlie wasn't the only one to care for you. To look out for you." He raised himself up, closing the little space between them on the bed and again pressing his chest against her back, both of his arms circling her this time in a full hug. His head, too, dropped and he kissed her jaw to her ear, his voice low.

"I'm not the only one to care for you, either." He paused, arms squeezing her small frame as he dropped his voice; his tone protective, serious. "But nobody else is going to care more than I do. Livia, you're gonna be fine."


End file.
